


Where It All Began

by petitegaynerd (embuffalo)



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Angst, Canon whom? I don't know her, Eventual Smut, F/F, Heist Wives, Pining, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-05-29 05:49:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15066533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embuffalo/pseuds/petitegaynerd
Summary: Debbie and Lou are two peas in a pod, the old married couple, partners-in-crime. Their story begins ten years ago: how they met, the heists they planned, the love they shared.





	1. Prologue (New York, August 2018)

Lou and Debbie, Debbie and Lou. Two peas in a pod, the old married couple, partners-in-crime. However their friends describe them, they always seem to go together. Nine-Ball had initially called their dynamic “some freaky Vulcan mind-meld shit,” but the others suggested that it might just be the result of love and a long history.

Their love has led them through small and big heists, to a wedding, a honeymoon in Italy, and into a spacious new townhouse in the Columbia Waterfront in Brooklyn. One night in August, after they return from their honeymoon, Debbie and Lou invite their friends over for dinner.

Tammy is the first to arrive. She lets herself in (everyone has keys, because it’s easier than having the girls pick the lock on a regular basis) and calls out, “Honeys, I’m home!”

Debbie emerges from the kitchen, her shirt loose and Lou’s lipstick on her collarbone, a faraway look in her eyes. “Hi Tammy,” she says. “How are you?”

“Clearly not as well as yourself,” Tammy teases. She kisses Debbie’s cheek in greeting, then tugs the taller woman’s collar back in place. “You’re no longer lazing on the beaches of Italy, Deb. Keep it together,” Tammy says fondly. Tammy has known Debbie for years, even longer than Lou has. “You look happy, Deb.”

“I am,” Debbie says, squeezing Tammy’s shoulder warmly. She leads Tammy into the kitchen and pours them each a glass of wine. Lou is busy over a simmering stovetop, but pauses her work to hug Tammy tightly.

Debbie puts the finishing touches on a heaping cheese board and brings it out into the living room when the others arrive. Daphne and Nine-Ball show up, mischievously intertwined, and Amita and Constance walk in not far behind, deep in conversation about a movie they had seen together. Rose is the last to arrive, predictably unpredictable, with freshly cut sunflowers, a puppy in her purse, and a bottle of champagne.

The eight women gather at the table in the couple’s dining room and Debbie asks them all to hold hands. She is not particularly religious, but Debbie believes in celebrating family. She holds tightly to Lou on her left and Tammy on her right. “Thank you to each and every one of you for your support and love throughout the past few months. Lou and I are deeply grateful for all you have done for us. We would not be here without your trust, love, and kindness towards us and towards each other. Know that our door and hearts are always open for whatever you need. Now eat! Lou has been slaving over this all day.”

Serving dishes are passed around. Lou has prepared a fresh green salad with grapefruit and avocado and a creamy clam chowder paired with home-baked sourdough. It is simple, but elegant and delicious.

Rose dabs away a tear as she settles into the meal. “Ah, young love,” she flutters.

“Not so young,” Lou says drily.

“Damn, Ma, you’re not dead yet!” Constance rolls her eyes.

“Who would have thought that the two of us would wind up like this, huh?” Debbie says. She laces her fingers through Lou’s again and squeezes.

Lou chuckled. “Ancient and wealthy, with a house to our name and six ungrateful children?”

“You know what I mean. Together and not dead.”

“I know, honey.” Lou kisses Debbie sweetly, briefly.

“God, come on, we get it. You’re madly in love,” Daphne says, unimpressed. “You’ve been making moony eyes at each other since, like, 1995.”

Debbie, Lou, and Tammy laugh. Even Amita shakes her head. Lou raises an eyebrow at Debbie. “If only it had been that easy.”

Rose, Nine-Ball, Constance, and Daphne exchange confused looks.

“How _did_ you meet?” Constance asks. “Like, you guys were definitely in love during the heist. But what about before, and when Debbie was in prison?”

“It started with a one-night stand,” Daphne guesses quickly. “You just couldn’t keep your hands off each other’s slammin’ bods and you’ve been going steady ever since.”

Rose clicks her tongue softly. “There’s no romance in that, Daphne. Surely… Louise was in a tuxedo and Deborah was wearing something dark and form-fitting. ‘Ill-met by moonlight, proud Titania.’ Dripping with diamonds and elegance, drunk on champagne, their first kiss on the top of a high-rise.”

“What year are you living in?” Amita chides. Rose merely giggles and looks misty.

“Nah,” Nine-Ball says thoughtfully, “There was definitely some heartache along the way. Some shit went down. Lou would have never let Debbie get caught.”

Lou brushes back a strand of Debbie’s hair, tuning out all the others and whispering something very quiet to her lover. The look that Debbie gives Lou, longing and maybe apologetic and very, very soft, is enough to confirm Nine-Ball’s guess.

“See, I’m right.” Nine-Ball smirks. “The zodiac doesn’t lie, baby!”

Daphne prods, “How _did_ you meet?”

“ _That_ is a story for another day, my ducklings,” Lou says firmly, stabbing her lettuce with her fork.

Daphne looks like she wants to ask more but Tammy shakes her head slightly at the younger woman. Daphne shrugs, returning to her meal and the conversation turns to a deeper discussion of astrology. Nine-Ball is a true believer, explaining compatibility and rising signs to her friends. Daphne and Amita are curious; the rest are uncertain or skeptic. As the night wears on, there is more laughter and liquor and the warmth of good friends. The party moves into the living room, and by the time that the girls fall asleep, it is close to one in the morning. 

Debbie and Lou are the last to go to bed. Lou tucks blankets around her friends. In one of the armchairs, Daphne is wrapped possessively around Nine-Ball, and the others are all passed out on the couch and the floor. Tammy, for some reason, has curled up on the pool table, and Lou gently places a throw pillow beneath the blonde head. Debbie picks up the empty bottles and dirty dishes and takes them into the kitchen, then returns with a bowl of water and a dish of smoked salmon, which she puts on the floor near Rose's new dog.

They close the curtains and turn out the lights before heading up the stairs to their room. Their room is luxurious, with plush carpet and a balcony overlooking the bay. The couple's nightly routine is perhaps the one indicator that they are no longer quite as wild and brazen as they were when they first met. (Gone are their days of wiping eyeliner off on a sleeve and using a final shot of whiskey as mouthwash.) Lou is flossing her teeth in front of the bathroom mirror and Debbie touches Lou’s hip and Lou moves to the side, allowing Debbie to open the drawer of the vanity to dig out eye cream.

Finished in the bathroom, Debbie pulls the door of the balcony in, leaving it open just enough to let the breeze in. She is the first in bed, exchanging her blouse and slacks for an old, soft t-shirt. Lou turns off the light and crawls into bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, tossing her clothes on a chair. Debbie pulls the other woman close to her and kisses her sweetly.

“Baby, I love you,” Debbie whispers.

Lou props herself up on her elbows. From the furrow in Debbie's brow, Lou knows that she is thinking about all the 'what if's that Daphne had unintentionally brought to the forefront of Debbie's mind. She tells her wife, “Deb, I’ll always have your back. What’s done is done and we’ve made our peace. No use worrying over it now.”

“I just don’t want to fuck it up,” Debbie says softly, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I know, honey.” Lou kisses tears away from the corners of Debbie’s eyes. “But it won’t happen. It certainly won’t happen while we’re asleep, so try and get some rest.”

“Okay.” Debbie sighs and turns away from Lou, but Lou slips her arm around Debbie’s waist, holding her wife gently. 

Lou murmurs, "I love you too."

Debbie can’t help but stare out at the water, thinking about where it all began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those wondering about the thought behind a throwaway line, here are my headcanons for the whole team’s zodiac signs: Debbie is a Scorpio, Lou is an Aries, Tammy is a Capricorn, Amita is a Libra, Constance is a Sagittarius, Nine-Ball is a Taurus, Rose is a Pisces, Daphne is a Gemini. (i don't actually know that much about astrology. tell me i'm wrong!) 
> 
> a few other headcanons that didn't make it into the final edit: Lou is left handed. Daphne and Nine-Ball are together because i think that they would push each other more than the common pairing of Daphne/Rose. Rose thinks she knows more than she does and she acts like she's psychic even though she does not know what's going on 85% of the time.
> 
> this is going to be a long fic. there's a lot that i want to cover about Debbie and Lou’s past, full of pining and smut and fluff and angst. i've mapped out a timeline for everything that i think happens between the “Ten Years Ago” to the end of the movie because forget canon! we write our own backstory. my hope is to finish this before i go back to school in late august.


	2. Seattle, September 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time they meet.

Lou Miller sighs and swings her legs to the floor. She works a crick from her neck and stretches her fingers, shaking out her wrist. Quietly, she picks her clothes up off the floor and dresses in the darkness. The woman in the bed, still wrapped up in a sheet, softly asks her to stay. Lou presses a kiss to her forehead but shakes her head. She stumbles around to find her boots and jacket, checking her pockets for her wallet and keys. She shuts the door to the woman’s studio apartment and heads for the stairwell, quickly jogging the four flights down.

Her motorcycle stands outside the apartment building. Lou rubs her eyes, smearing her already smudged eyeliner. She doesn’t want to drive home this late, but she’s used to leaving before dawn. Half of her ride home is on a ferry, so at least it’s safe. Donning her helmet, Lou straddles her bike, revving the engine.

“Wait!” A tall, brunette woman hops on the back of Lou’s bike. “Drive! Fast! Go!”

Lou kicks up the kickstand and pulls out of the parking space, not fully processing what is going on. Against the wind rushing past them she shouts, “Where to?”

“Anywhere!” is the reply in Lou’s ear. “There are cops behind us!”

Lou is very awake now. The woman is holding tightly to her waist, and there is something between them, something hard and heavy. But she can’t think about that now. There are red and blue lights flashing in her mirrors, so Lou takes a hard left into an alley. The alley turns out onto another street and Lou keeps going, driving up and down the hills of the city until the sound of sirens is distant.

They reach the waterfront, where the city’s lights bounce off of the bay. Lou pulls into the ferry terminal, driving through the parking lot and onto the rocky beach. Next to a couple boulders, Lou stops her bike. “There’s a hiding spot here,” she says. “We’ll ditch the bike here in case the cops saw the license plate and I’ll come back for it in the morning. You can stay the night at my place.” As they get off her bike, Lou pushes it into an opening between the rocks, then pulls a tarp out of her saddlebags to cover the motorcycle.

“Run from the cops often?” the brunette asks as walk up to the beach together and board the ferry.

“Just enough,” Lou says over her shoulder as she climbs the stairs. “You?”

“I’m a good girl,” the brunette responds. “I just had some business to take care of tonight.”

Lou settles into a hard plastic seat in the cabin of the top deck, stretching her legs out in front of her. The brunette sits down across from her.

“I’m Debbie,” she says, offering her hand to shake.

Lou reaches out and grips the woman’s hand. “I’m Lou,” she responds. Debbie’s grasp is firm and unyielding.

Under the fluorescent lighting, Lou finally gets a good look at Debbie. She seems professional, dressed in a pantsuit and heels, her hair falling in shiny, long layers. There is a trace of worry in her eyes, but she mainly seems curious, examining Lou, her low-rise jeans and skimpy tank beneath a leather jacket, her smudged eyeliner and tousled hair.

Debbie’s gaze is inscrutable and Lou doesn’t want to answer any of the questions that might be lurking in her eyes. Lou gets up and heads out onto the outer deck, letting the harsh wind beat her cheeks. She pulls a lighter and a cigarette from her pocket and stares out into the darkness of the water. Her instincts tell her to leave Debbie on the ferry and just keep living her own life, because this woman can only lead to trouble. But a small part of Lou wants to take that risk. She wants to know why Debbie was running from the cops at two a.m. and why she hopped onto Lou’s bike with such fearlessness and why Lou herself has invited Debbie into her home without a second thought.

When the ferry sounds its horn half an hour later, signaling its imminent arrival on the island, Lou goes back inside. Debbie has nodded off, her purse clutched in her arms, her face soft. Lou gently taps the woman’s shoulder and tells her that it’s time to go.

Debbie stands up a little unsteadily, and she sticks close to Lou as they leave the boat. Lou’s cabin is within walking distance of the ferry, just over a mile away, and they walk side by side in the darkness, led by the penlight on Lou’s keychain. Lou gives Debbie her bed and clothes to sleep in, before crashing on the couch and pulling a blanket over herself. She stares at the ceiling and tries not to think about the implications of the brunette woman occupying her bedroom. Eventually, she drifts asleep, remembering the feeling of Debbie’s arms around her waist.

//

In the morning, Lou wakes to sunlight aggressively hitting her in the face. She groans. Her head is pounding and she can taste last night’s activities on her tongue. She gets up and stumbles to the bathroom. She washes her face and grabs a pair of sweatpants from the floor. When she emerges, Debbie is on the couch, curled up in Lou’s bathrobe and holding two steaming mugs of coffee.

“Hey,” Debbie says.

“Hi,” Lou grunts, taking the proffered cup. She is not used to having strangers sitting on her couch, especially ones who wear her clothes, but she strangely doesn’t mind. Debbie fidgets with the tie on her robe.

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” Debbie says, breaking the silence. “I wasn’t expecting the cops to be there and you were there and I totally took advantage of you and now I’m taking advantage of your kitchen and your clothes. I like your place, by the way. And I will pay you back for gas and the ferry ride. Anything for my hero.”

Lou snorts. “I’m no hero. And I don’t need your money. Just don’t get followed by the cops again because the next person you run away with might not be someone as kind and friendly as me.”

“I know,” Debbie says quietly. "I know I made a mistake."

Another moment passes before Lou says, “Listen, I’m hungover and I’m starving. I don’t need to know anything about what you did last night, but I’m not going to kick you out without breakfast. Are pancakes okay? Maybe eggs?”

“If there’s blueberries and they’re scrambled.” Debbie sounds cautious, but her smile is utterly charming.

 _Her eyes look like molten chocolate in the morning sunlight, bold and enticing_ , Lou thinks dreamily. She can’t help but smile in response.

“Coming right up, princess,” she tells Debbie, standing up and taking their mugs into the kitchen. “If you want to shower, there’s clean towels in the bathroom and I’m not terribly precious about clothes, so just help yourself to whatever’s in the closet.”

When Debbie comes out of Lou’s room, hair wet and legs long, wearing one of Lou’s favorite flannel shirts and a pair of shorts, there is a stack of pancakes and a bowl of eggs on the table. There are also bright hydrangeas and two fresh cups of coffee and Lou sitting at the table, a little self-consciously, waiting for Debbie.

“Help yourself,” Lou says, passing her a plate.

The minute Debbie takes a bite of her pancakes, she moans, borderline pornographically, and Lou nearly spits out her coffee.

“God, this is really good,” Debbie says. “I might have to hitch a ride home with you more often for your cooking alone.”

"Only if you pay me. I have a high daily rate,” Lou jokes.

A moment passes, before Debbie asks, “So, walk of shame last night, huh?”

“None of your business.”

“Shit, he was that bad in bed? Sorry to hear it.”

Lou rolls her eyes. She doesn’t correct Debbie, but says, “I don’t kiss and tell. I just wasn’t interested in staying till morning. And what about you? You just happened to be out and about at two a.m. and the cops decided you’d been bad?”

“Yes,” Debbie says, smiling innocently.

“And that explains why you had gold bars in your purse.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not a fool. No one carries half a dozen bricks around in a Coach handbag,” Lou retorts. “Did anybody see you? Am I going to find cops at my door in an hour?”

“No,” Debbie says confidently. “I didn’t get caught.”

“How can you be sure?” Lou asks harshly.

Debby sighs. “It was the Klondike Gold Rush museum. It’s a small building and it’s barely protected. I went in in the evening, told them I was working for security and I had to do some maintenance. They didn’t even ask for ID. I got into their system and started disabling the alarms. There was one software system that was connected to the police department and I hadn’t seen anything like it before. I did my best, but I guess my hacking just isn’t what it used to be. Anyways, I went back late at night, and it seemed like everything was going smoothly, but then alarms started going off when I was just out the door. I knew the cops wouldn’t be far behind so I started running. But I swear there’s no footage of me there, audio or video.”

Lou is no stranger to crime. But Debbie seems to promise something bigger, more dangerous, and Lou can’t help but be intrigued. She asks, “So that’s authentic, nineteenth-century gold sitting in my bedroom?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

Debbie shrugs. “Because it’s what I’m good at. I am an Ocean, after all.”

Lou stares at Debbie — her strong jaw and glittering brown eyes — and it clicks. “You’re Deborah _Ocean_?”

“Only my great aunt Bessie calls me Deborah, but yes. I hope that doesn’t make you regret bringing me home.”

“No,” Lou says. “It just makes it more interesting. It makes _you_ more interesting.” She doesn’t mean to sound flirtatious, she swears, but it comes out that way anyways.

Debbie leans in, smiling smugly. “Does it now?”

“Yes,” Lou says honestly. “Tell me more about that gold. What are you going to do with it?”

“Haven’t quite figured that out yet. You wanna help me come up with a plan?”

"I'm not exactly a criminal mastermind, but I'm interested."

“Oh honey, you’re not stupid if you could tell that I had gold in my purse from just feeling it with your back, and you’re not innocent if you know how to hide from the cops.”

“I’m just a firm believer in a little anarchy,” Lou says. “What about jewelry? Put a little work in up front and then drive the price up and profit?”

Debbie reaches over and takes a strawberry from Lou’s plate, popping it in her mouth and sucking the juice off her thumb. “Keep talking, hotshot, and I think we can figure something out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> strangers wouldn’t really act like this, but whatever. lou can’t just come out to debbie bc it’s 2007 and they don’t ~know each other~ well enough yet :( 
> 
> is debbie actually flirting with lou or does lou just hope she is?


	3. Seattle, Winter 2007-2008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life together is a change for the better. The couple takes the next step towards a big heist and works through some feelings along the way.

Debbie and Lou spend the next few months getting to know each other. They email back and forth for a while; Debbie sends Lou long, carefully worded messages and Lou writes back with all the flair that AOL allows her, her thoughts jumping all over the place as she rushes to respond. Some nights, they grab dinner together in the city, talking over drinks about their lives and work and heists and plans, before going their own separate ways for the night.

In early December, Debbie gets rid of her shitty apartment in the city and moves into Lou’s place, cramming her mattress into the small space on the floor between Lou’s bed and the wall. Debbie brings an alarming collection of clothes, wigs, and makeup with her, and Lou’s tiny cabin just doesn’t have enough storage space to accommodate all of Debbie’s belongings. Debbie gets rid of many of her things, and as she reorganizes their closet, she makes Lou throw away her threadbare t-shirts and jeans. “I’ll buy you an upgrade,” Debbie promises.

“I don’t need an upgrade,” Lou protests. “It’s not like I can show up to work wearing Gucci to wipe down tables and serve beer.”

But she can’t deny that Debbie has good taste, as well as the funds to buy Lou pretty much anything she wants. Debbie doesn’t always pay, though, and Lou begins to see the way that Debbie works, acting annoyed and demanding so that she can walk out of stores with perfume and lingerie and jewelry. One afternoon, as they go shopping, Debbie just hands Lou more and more bags, full of the same kind of clothes that Lou has always worn, but they are more comfortable and stylish than her old wardrobe. Lou’s closet now has a steady rotation of designer jeans, t-shirts so soft that Lou swears they had to have been woven by magical butterflies, and clean, comfortable boots that hold a shine and feel like butter.

Living with Debbie forces Lou to find a new routine. She spends a few weekends trying to teach Debbie to cook, as a way to repay her for the clothes. But when she comes home one night to find a new burn mark on the ceiling above her stove and Debbie crying on the floor, eating cold soup from a can, Lou forbids her from using anything but the microwave and coffee pot. While Lou takes over making their meals, Debbie helps out in other ways, vacuuming and doing laundry when she gets home from work and dutifully painting over the burn mark when she recovers from her accidents in the kitchen.

Most days together starts early with Debbie’s alarm. Debbie rises quickly, showering and getting ready for her day before dragging Lou out of bed to cook them both breakfast. Debbie does administrative work through a temp agency. It pays her well with flexible but steady hours—someone’s secretary is always on vacation, and Debbie gains access to all kinds of companies all over town. Her hard work and computer skills (as well as the blinding force of her smile and personality) keep companies from piecing together the pattern of financial deficit that follows her.

Lou goes back to bed for a few more hours before going to work in the afternoon or evening. Bartending means that she gets home late, which doesn't work well for Debbie. For the first few weeks, Debbie waits up for Lou to come home, to talk and plan over leftovers and wine, but Lou can tell that Debbie hates going to bed at two a.m. when she has to be in the city by eight the same morning. Lou begins to pick up waitressing shifts when she can, starting her days when Debbie does so she can give her a ride into the city on the back of her bike and then come home at the same time.

When Debbie goes home to New Jersey for the holidays, Lou ends up going home from a bar with a tall woman with dark, curly hair. They spend a few hours listening to music, sharing a joint before they go to bed, Lou worshiping the other woman’s neck and breasts with her mouth as the woman’s hands grip Lou’s ass, holding their hips close. Lou spends the night in the woman’s apartment—but only because she’s working the breakfast rush the next morning, she tells herself, and not because she doesn’t want to sleep in her own room without Debbie at her side.

//

At the end of February, they go clubbing to celebrate their last few nights in Seattle. They’ve decided to keep Lou’s cabin as a hideaway, and Lou’s friend Mike will rent it out for the time being. They’re both ready to move on, and Debbie and Lou have chosen Las Vegas as their next stop. It’s warm and sunny there, and Debbie has friends that they can stay with while they run a job.

As they are getting ready to go out, Lou idly asks, “Won’t the casinos know you’re an Ocean?” She is crammed next to Debbie in front of the bathroom mirror, running her fingers through her bangs until they look right.

“I have great disguises,” Debbie responds, running the wand of a red gloss over her lips. “Danny didn’t even try. He pretty much relied on his smooth talking alone. And it worked, kind of, but he ended up back in prison. I don’t intend on getting myself put in handcuffs. Here, help me.”

She hands Lou a necklace and turns around. “You wouldn’t wear handcuffs, even if a charming gentleman were to ask you nicely?” Lou teases, brushing Debbie’s hair to the side to fasten the delicate gold chain around the brunette’s neck.

“I’d rather have him be the one in the handcuffs.” 

Lou tries to keep the sudden heat that pools in the pit of her stomach from rising to her cheeks. She lightly pats Debbie’s shoulder and says, “Right on, girlfriend.”

Debbie turns around and smiles brightly at Lou. “Ready?” she asks. She is wearing a glittering gold dress that stops at the end of her thigh and just above a pair of gleaming black boots.

“I was born ready,” Lou jokes. They make quite a pair, with Lou in a black silk top and gold pants bought to match Debbie’s dress. It’s a little outlandish, to be sure, but Lou pulls it off with a swagger and half a dozen gold bangles on each arm. Careful not to mess up their hair and makeup, they put on jackets and helmets and ride into the city.

They dance the night away, sometimes together and sometimes apart, with bright smiles on their faces and glasses in their hands, surrounded by good music and good friends. Around midnight, a pounding remix of Rihanna's "Umbrella" begins thumping through the speakers of the club. They scream-sing to one another, jumping up and down in a happy, sweaty mess. When the song finishes, Debbie pulls Lou close, reaching up to hold Lou’s face between her hands.

“I’m so glad it was your motorcycle that I got on. Best damn decision of my life,” Debbie says.

“That’s what all the girls say,” Lou says, laughing.

“Shut up, dumbass,” Debbie says, looking right into Lou’s eyes. “Seriously, I’m glad you’re in this with me. I’ve got high hopes for Vegas, baby.”

Lou slips her arm around the brunette’s shoulders, pulling her in tight again. “Me too, Deb. Me too.”

//

They leave for Las Vegas a few days later, just in time for the spring break rush. When they arrive, a cab takes them to a mansion on the edge of the city. A tall, heavy-set man is there to greet them at the door, a glass of scotch in one hand.

“Hi Reuben,” Debbie smiles. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, baby girl,” the man says. “How you been?”

Debbie’s response is muffled as he pulls her into a tight hug.

“And who’s your friend?” Reuben asks, ruffling Debbie’s hair and looking over at Lou.

“This is Lou Miller,” Debbie says. The blonde reaches out to shake Reuben’s hand, but he hugs her as well.

“Welcome,” Reuben tells her. “I hope Debbie hasn’t told you too many tall tales about what goes on around here. And please, consider yourself part of the family while you stay.”

“Thank you, sir,” Lou says. “Debbie has said nothing but good things, truly.”

Debbie leans her head against Lou’s shoulder and smiles innocently up at Reuben. “I’ve been good, Reuben, I promise.”

Reuben raises an eyebrow. “And a good girl like you is in Vegas just to play a game or two of blackjack with an old man like me.”

“Actually, some games are in the plans,” Debbie tells him. “Maybe some roulette or bingo to mix things up. You know what I’d really like? To win a big stuffed bear from one of those cheap arcade machines.”

“Always scheming,” Reuben says, more fond than annoyed. “Why do I associate with your family?”

“Because we’re charming and delightful,” Debbie tells him. “Or at least I am; I won’t vouch for Danny. And we give great holiday gifts. How are your refurbished tennis courts treating you, by the way?”

“They’re wonderful,” Reuben says. “Whatever surfacing Danny had put in makes all the difference. We’ll have to go out and play a couple matches while you’re here.”

“Of course we will, Reuben,” Debbie says. "Right, Lou?"

“I’ve never really learned how to play, but I’ll watch and cheer you on. Or heckle, if necessary,” Lou tells her.

"I'll teach you if you ever cease your torment."

“Whether we play tennis or not, I'm happy that you're here," Reuben intervenes. "Feel free to take whatever room you want. They're all ready for you."

“We’ll take two rooms,” Debbie says. “I’ve been crashing on Lou’s floor for the last few months so it might nice to have our own rooms for a change.”

“Ah, well, I wasn’t sure,” Reuben says. “You had said on the phone Lou was your new partner, and the last girl you brought here stayed with you.”

“I don't kiss and tell,” Debbie says breezily. “Good night, Reuben. We should go ahead and get unpacked.” She wheels her suitcase down the hallway towards the guest wing.

Lou picks up her own bags and follows Debbie down the long, ornate hallway, but not before giving Reuben a quizzical look out of the corner of her eye. The older man just sticks his hands in the pockets of his smoking jacket and looks right back at Lou.

Through the doorways in the hall, Lou catches glimpses of a number of extravagant and beautiful rooms. The room that Debbie has picked for herself is old-fashioned and wine-red, decorated with gold and mahogany with a four-poster bed. The room she shows Lou is more modern, decorated in bright blues and whites with wide open windows, soft cotton sheets, and live plants spread around the room.

Lou quickly unpacks, tossing her everyday clothes into a dresser and hanging up the outfits that Debbie has bought her for their Vegas trip. She heads to Debbie’s room and sits on the edge of the bed, legs swinging, thinking about their exchange with Reuben. Debbie is unpacking slowly, softly humming along to the radio.

Eventually, she flops down on the bed next to Lou. “Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” Lou says back.

“Just wanted to check in. I know— well— ” Debbie sighs. “We haven’t really talked about relationships or whatever. I hope it doesn’t scare you. If it makes you uncomfortable, just let me know.”

Lou nods silently, fidgeting with one of her rings.

“Reuben has known me since I was a kid, and he’s basically my uncle,” Debbie says, filling the silence. “We’re just open with each other, in a way that’s different from a lot of families. I think we have to be. To pull off a heist you have to be honest with your team. So I’m sorry it didn’t come from me at first, but I guess now’s as a good a time as any to tell you I’m bi.”

Another pause fills the room. There is worry in Debbie’s eyes, and fear and hope.

Lou finally says, “Deb… It’s not that big a deal. And I’m gay too, as long as we're talking about it. I just wasn’t really expecting to find out like that—not that I was expecting to find out. I wasn’t exactly planning on telling you anytime soon, or ever, to be honest. It’s hard to know how, or when the right moment is.”

Debbie’s hand finds Lou’s on the bedspread. “Yeah. It's always hard. I know we need to talk about this, but it doesn't have to be right now, because we've got a con to do.”

“Honestly, Debbie? I’m more worried about that than anything else. I’ve never done anything this big before.”

“Listen, if you don’t like it, we don’t have to keep working together, no harm, no foul. We do the job, you take your share, we part ways. But we’ve got plenty of time to figure that out. And I promise that no matter what, I won’t leave you hanging.”

“Sure thing, partner.” Lou smiles, a little weakly.

“We okay, Lou?”

“Sure thing, partner,” Lou repeats, more firmly, squeezing Debbie’s hand.

//

In the morning, Debbie heads down to the fitness room and hops on a treadmill. She runs for half an hour, blasting music on her Discman. She isn’t listening to the songs, though; it is just a rhythm that sustains her. Staring ahead at the blank wall, she carefully runs over each detail of their job. Lou and Debbie could run it just by themselves, sure, but it’ll be a little easier and a bit more plausible with another conman. Debbie needs a solid third, and she knows that Reuben gets bored. When she finishes her workout, she heads back upstairs in the search of breakfast.

Reuben is sitting on the patio, reading the newspaper over eggs, sausage, and orange juice. Debbie slips outside and settles into a wicker chair next to Reuben, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” Debbie says.

“Morning,” Reuben says over the top of his paper. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks, Uncle Rube.” Debbie fills her plate, then says, “By the way, I was wondering if you’d be willing to spend a few hours in the Grand Reef Casino hotel tonight.”

“That’s not ‘by the way,’ Deborah,” Reuben says sternly. He folds down his paper and sets it aside. “Besides, I’ve given up the crooked way of life.”

“Sure you have,” Debbie says, stuffing a bite of waffle into her mouth. “That explains the special treats you send your favorite racehorses. You won’t even have to do anything illegal, I promise. You have to pretend to be Lou’s sugar daddy for a few minutes, leave her to play on the floor, and then pass the time however you please. I’ve already bought you a room to stay in. All I need you to do is order room service once every hour.”

“Debbie, why are you asking me to do this?”

“I need a third, Reuben. I could do it without you, but you love me, and you love a good, easy job. And if I don’t tell you exactly what we’re doing, you can’t be blamed.”

Reuben sighs. “I’ll be there. Just tell me when. But I want to ask you something else.”

“Shoot.”

“How long have you and Lou known each other?”

“Not long,” Debbie says. “Six months, I guess.”

“Do you think she’s going to stick around?”

“I hope so. We work well together, and you know how hard it is to find a good partner.”

“I think you should be careful, Debbie. If you start to fall for her, or if she falls for you—don’t yell at me, I’m not saying it will happen, but it could—it’ll get messy. Complicated feelings create complicated jobs. Contrary to what the Ocean track record might suggest, no heartache is worth a trip to prison. What happened with Danny and Tess seems romantic, I know, but it was brash. We could have all gotten caught back then because Danny wasn’t looking at the big picture.”

“Rueben, I swear to god. We’re good partners. _Business_ partners. I’m not interested in fucking up a working relationship in order to pursue a romantic one.”

“Whatever you choose to do, do it kindly. I like your young lady—and speaking of, here she comes.”

“She’s not my anything,” Debbie protests.

Lou approaches the table barefoot, wearing cutoffs and a black tank. She sits down in the chair next to Debbie, propping one foot on her seat. “Do they make the sun here extra bright here for a reason?” she groans.

“You’re Australian,” Debbie chides. “Just because you’ve been in Seattle for a while doesn’t mean that the desert has changed. And good morning to you too.”

“Ugh, we can’t all be as bright eyed and bushy tailed as you.” Lou groans and presses her forehead into the table to block out the light.

Reuben clears his throat and asks, “Lou, how did you sleep?”

Lou straightens up. “Fine, sir, thank you. The room’s great.”

“Lou just acts hungover if she has to wake up before noon,” Debbie adds. “But she’s always weirdly chipper after a night of drinking.”

“I hope you got some rest away from this chatterbox,” Reuben says kindly. He tells Lou, “Really, please help yourself to the meal. If there’s something else you’d like, feel free to ask. And don’t let Debbie boss you around.”

“It’s not my fault,” Lou grumbles, reaching out to pile her plate with bacon, cheese, and fruit. “Debbie bosses anything that moves.”

“You know, Miss Ocean, someone is going to put you in your place one day. And I hope I’m around to witness it,” Reuben says.

“You know, Lou might give me a run for my money. She usually doesn’t listen to me. Or at least she pretends not to.” Debbie pokes Lou in the side.

Lou huffs into a spoonful of berries. “You’re a brat,” she tells Debbie.

“But I’m very good at being one,” Debbie grins.

Lou looks up at Reuben and the two shake their heads at one another. It is Debbie’s turn to scoff and cross her arms over her chest.

“I _am_ very good at getting other people to do what I want and I’ll have you know that comes in handy.”

“And you’re even more convincing when you pout,” Lou taunts.

“You’re such a child.”

“You’re the one with the palate an eight-year-old.”

“Healthy eating is a myth perpetrated by the government.”

“You’re going to die early from high blood pressure and cholesterol.”

“Live fast, die young, baby.” Debbie stands, kissing Reuben’s cheek and then the top of Lou’s head. Lou half-heartedly tries to swat her away, but Debbie leans down to hugs her tightly, briefly, resting her chin on the top of Lou’s head. “I’m going to go take a bath. Don’t plot anything against me while I’m gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they uhauled real quick, huh? p.s. debbie only steals from corporations that can take a hit; she does have some morals.
> 
> editing this chapter was a binch and it's still all over the place. i'm trying to balance plot with exposition and establishing their dynamic. the next chapter will definitely have some sexy heisting! stay tooned
> 
> in the meantime you can follow me on tumblr @petitegaynerd where i’ve been procrastinating by making O8 moodboards. luv u bbs


	4. Las Vegas, March 2008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first heist together! More feelings! Debbie’s POV!

When all is said and done, Debbie's plan is simple, really. There is no personal weight, no emotion, nothing messy. Her brother Danny may be clever, but he simply doesn’t understand the beauty of quick and clean heists. Debbie is perfectly content to rob a casino for the sake of robbing a casino, even if it's not exactly anything new. Besides, these places don’t really have the security they think they do, but Debbie isn’t about to tell that to the management.

Debbie is just inside the workers’ entrance to the casino. She takes a deep breath. She replaces her own content smile with an expression of pleasant disinterest that matches the slightly ill-fitting uniform she wears, a gaudy purple waistcoat over a crisp white button up and black slacks. Smoothing the ponytail of the ginger wig she wears, she clocks in under the name of Gina Bennett and begins to work.

She heads out to the main floor, passing out drinks and hors d'oeuvres to the hotel’s patrons, clearing away their empty glasses and dirty napkins, blending into the casino floor. For the next few hours, she maps the halls and passageways along the floor plan she has memorized, noting any disturbances or obstacles in her way. Matching up details and making small details is almost meditative for Debbie, but she stays alert, making quiet, coded comments as she walks, communicating with Lou via the small earpiece she wears.

Right now, the stakes are low. The worst that could happen is a confused manager asking who Debbie is. But the stakes are about to get much higher and Debbie can't wait. She lives for the thrill, knowing that she’s smart enough to pull it off. On the other hand, Lou seems to not truly enjoy a good crime, despite her gift for felonies. She is smart and a quick study, with an excellent poker face and the sharp wits to get herself out of a scrape quickly. Debbie has learned that Lou has worked some kind of forgery and managed a little bit of fencing, but only enough to keep her finances afloat, never anything big enough to make a profit. Debbie is aiming to change Lou's attitude tonight, giving her the opportunity to feel the ecstasy of a job firsthand. 

So, at seven o’clock, Lou and Reuben arrive together in a Rolls-Royce. Reuben gets out first, wearing a plain black tuxedo, with a hip-length cape draped over his shoulder. He helps Lou out of the car, the blonde dressed in an off-the-shoulder cocktail dress and heels, her platinum shag pulled away from her face in a half-updo. A bellboy materializes to haul their large suitcases from the trunk of the car and follow them inside.

In front of the elevators, Reuben presses a kiss to the top of her head and tells her, “Enjoy yourself, young lady. Have fun, play around, and I’ll be waiting for you in our room whenever you’re ready.”

She knows Reuben is speaking to anyone who might be listening and not Lou herself, so she tries to keep the glimmer of disgust in her eyes to a bare minimum. She beams up at him, all sugar. “I’ll see you soon, daddy,” she says.

She was fine with the dress. It wasn’t what she’d choose to wear, but she could live in it for a few hours. The acting, on the other hand, rubbed her the wrong way. She didn’t want anyone to think that she was taking advantage of someone--or being taken advantage of. But she had had to succumb to Debbie’s logic when they had discussed it. As Debbie explained, no one would give her a second glance. No one would care about a woman they thought was controlled by a man, presuming she wouldn’t be bright enough to try anything on her own. Lou is ready to prove those people wrong. Or, more precisely, to use their ignorance to rob this casino. At that thought, Lou smiles a real smile at Reuben, who winks at her as the elevator doors close on him, the bellboy, and their large (and, unknown to the hotel’s staff, vastly empty) suitcases.

Lou turns to survey the floor. She likes gambling; she can count cards and bluff well. In college, she would scam her way into games at frat houses to win big off of trust-fund douchebags. She’s played with friends and others for years, and Debbie has made her practice playing under pressure as training for this job.

She heads over to the bar, where she is greeted by Debbie in disguise, who smiles brightly and asks, “Can I get you something to drink, ma’am?”

“A Manhattan, please,” Lou says, handing Debbie a few bills.

“One number 35 coming right up.”

How Debbie has managed to keep tabs on the card counts while pretending to serve customers, Lou doesn’t quite comprehend. But she accepts the drink from Debbie and heads over to table 35. It’s a blackjack table. Something easy enough to start with. Lou slides into an empty seat, asks to be dealt in. The deck is hot. She bets big money and wins easily. She is almost beginning to feel at ease when Debbie’s voice suddenly blares in her ear.

“Drop your shoulders, Lou. You look nervous as fuck, and carrying that much tension around is unhealthy.”

Lou rolls her eyes as she takes a sip from her drink, but complies with Debbie’s order. She plays for a while, the card running hot and then going cold. Other people come to the table and leave, but Lou remains, keeping her eyes on the flow of cash at other tables.

“I guess my luck is running out,” Lou wistfully tells the young man next to her. He must be a college student, with an ill-fitting suit and a messy head of hair. “A fortune cookie told me my lucky numbers today were 35, 49, 51, 52, and 73. Guess 35 wasn’t so lucky after all.”

The boy laughs politely, as Lou gets up and walks away.

“On it,” is Debbie’s reply. Lou wanders over to the slot machines, watching from the corner of her eye as Debbie wheels a cart past tables 35, 49, 51, 52, and 73 to pick up the cash boxes there, exchanging nods with the dealer at each table.

Debbie disappears around a corner, and Lou knows she has to trust Debbie. She has to trust that everything will go according to plan.

Out of the range of security cameras, Debbie places a tablecloth and a tray of food onto the money cart. She wheels the now hidden money cart towards the staff elevators, bringing an identical money cart along with her.

She grabs a young man who is just stepping off the elevator. “Take this cart up to room 680 and leave it there--the man who's staying is very particular. He has to eat on a strict schedule, so it’s best to bring the cart a few minutes early and just leave it. I’ll go up and bring it back to the kitchens when I get back from taking this down to the vault.”

“Got it, Gina,” the man says and heads into another elevator.

Debbie smiles at him. She is grateful for the unquestioning compliance of hassled staff. She knows it’s wrong to take advantage of them, but they do make her life a lot easier. Besides, she’ll send him a check in a week to make up for his unwitting involvement in her scheme.

She heads down to the vault and hands off the cart, full of fake cash. The staff there accepts it and takes it into storage. On the way back up to the main floor, Debbie smiles to herself. Inside that cart, there are bills are printed with portraits of George Bush, with alternating 9s and 11s where the bill’s values should be. Danny had met Banksy a few years ago, and the artist apparently now owes the Ocean family a few favors. Debbie is also smiling because this con is not very hard. It takes some quick movement and a few dark corners, but the work itself is easy, and Lou has provided an excellent front, spending big, keeping the casino’s staff interested in what this pretty, rich woman is doing.

What Lou is doing is playing. And she’s doing it well. Debbie sees her flirting with the other players at her table, leaning into the felt of the poker table to laugh at something that a group of frat boys has said. Debbie feels a pang of jealousy. She wants to be out there playing with Lou and flirting with the crowd. Her jealousy mixes with a strange feeling of pride because Lou is her girl--not that Debbie has any right to call her hers--but Lou is doing so well, just like Debbie knew she could. Lou catches Debbie’s eye and winks and Debbie can’t help but smile in return before going about her business.

The job is over almost before she knows it.

It is almost one o’clock when Debbie and Lou end up on the same elevator. Debbie pushes a cart, now full of junk food and liquor, into the elevator. Out of the corner of her eye, Debbie can see the corners of Lou’s mouth twisting up into a smile. She waits for Lou to exit the elevator first, then follows dutifully behind like the good employee that she pretends to be.

The lights are off in the suite that Debbie had acquired, and the door to one of the rooms is closed, with Reuben presumably fast asleep inside. Lou kicks off her heels by the door and pads into the other bedroom. She sees suitcases sitting at the foot of the bed, and curiosity gets the better of her desire to shower and change.

She pulls one of the suitcases into the bathroom, away from any security cameras, and unzips it, barely believing what she sees inside. There is more cash inside than she has ever seen in her life, $20s and $50s and $100s, neatly banded together and packed into the suitcase. She lightly runs her fingers over the stacks of bills. It’s more than she thought they would have, and she knows that this suitcase is only one of the few they had brought. Their deed--delicious and dangerous--seems much more tangible than before, and it sends a shiver up Lou’s spine.

She zips the suitcase backs up and returns it to its place in the bedroom, where she finds Debbie. The brunette has changed into a Whitney Houston tee and sweatpants, her wig discarded but her hair still pinned on top of her head. There is a feast of pizza, candy, and beer laid out on the king-sized bed.

“Come on,” Debbie says, patting the bed next to her. “Celebrate! We hustled hard tonight.”

“I’m going to change out of this damn dress first,” Lou says, grabbing clothes from the duffel bag that Debbie has brought with her. She turns away from Debbie and unzips her dress, exchanging the stiff floral garment for pajama shorts and a flannel shirt that she only buttons halfway. She settles across from Debbie on the bed, pulling bobby pins out of her hair, running her fingers through locks still stiff with hairspray, before grabbing a beer and twisting off the cap.

Debbie raises her own bottle in a toast, clinking her glass against Lou’s, a devilish smirk on her face. “To wild ideas and wild ways.”

“To our wild ways,” Lou agrees. She takes a swig, then nudges Debbie’s knee, teasing, “Thanks for cooking dinner.”

“My phone ordering skills remain excellent,” Debbie says. “Even if my use of kitchen appliances is not.”

Grinning, Lou picks up a piece of pizza, folding it in half before biting into it. Debbie’s smug look has softened into genuine content, and half an hour later, they are not just happy, but well-fed. Lou stands to clear away wrappers and boxes, and Debbie remains sprawled on the bed. “God, I’m stuffed,” Debbie groans. “I should go, though. Gotta clock out of my shift. You’ll be okay here?”

Lou laughs a little. “Deborah Ocean, I’m thirty-four. I’m fairly confident that I can spend the night alone in a hotel by now. I’ll see you back at Reuben’s early tomorrow. It'll blow our cover if you stay.”

“I know, Lou. I’ll go,” Debbie says sleepily. Contrary to her words, she tries to tug Lou back onto the bed. Lou resists, folding her arms across her chest and stepping away from the bed. Debbie pouts, “You’re too much of a gentleman to let me stay anyway.”

Lou sighs. “Debbie,” she says shortly, “You can’t ruin this for both of us just because you’re tired. I’ll call you a cab.”

She is suddenly frustrated, frustrated by Debbie and her petulance and presumptions. Lou stalks out into the common area of the suite, looking for a phone book. She finds one on the desk and flips it open, finding the number of a cab company and dialing.

When she returns to the bedroom, Debbie is back in her night’s disguise, looking much more awake and a little bit sheepish.

“A cab is coming around back. He said it was a blue car. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lou says shortly.

“Good night, Lou,” Debbie says, lingering in the doorway for just a moment before leaving the now-dark suite of rooms, leaving Lou to sink into the large hotel bed by herself.

//

Debbie wakes the next morning, alone in Reuben’s big house. She decides to take advantage of the heat while she’s in Las Vegas and she heads out to the pool for her morning workout. Shucking off her shoes and dropping a towel on one of the deck chairs, she dives into the cool, chlorinated embrace of the pool. Kicking hard, pulling herself forward with strong strokes, Debbie swims hard laps back and forth. She is unsure of how long she has been swimming when she finally notices Lou sitting on the edge of the pool, her legs dangling in the water.

“Hey,” Debbie says, swimming over.

“Hey,” Lou replies. “We should talk.”

Debbie nods. “Yes, we should.” She swims over to the pool’s ladder and hoists herself up, quickly drying off, slipping a pair of shorts over her suit, sliding her feet into flip-flops. She walks back over to Lou. “Do you want to talk here? Or inside?”

“Can we go for a walk?” Lou asks, putting her own shoes back on.

“Sure, yeah, okay,” Debbie fumbles. She doesn’t know what exactly Lou’s going to say and that thought makes her stomach sink. “Yes, let’s go for a walk,” she says more firmly, remembering that there is a path that wraps around the golf course connected to Reuben’s property.

Their long legs are matched stride for stride as Debbie guides them away from Reuben’s house, out into the open Nevada desert. Debbie’s skin slowly warms as they walk, her swimsuit still cool as it clings damply to her skin.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you last night,” Lou says eventually. “I wasn’t myself.”

“Lou, don’t apologize,” Debbie says emphatically. “It’s my fault. I was tipsy and tired and said dumb shit. I didn’t mean to push any buttons.”

“It’s not…” Lou sighs. “It’s not just button-pushing. I think you and I have very different expectations for this partnership. I’m not--I won’t be a crutch, something you can fall on. It feels an awful lot like you’ve been using me, and for what? A huge wad of cash? I’d like to think I’m worth more than that.”

“Lou, wait. Don’t say that. Of course you mean more than money, but the money was there and I wanted to do this and…”

Lou’s melancholy morphs into annoyance as she scoffs, “I don’t get you, Debbie Ocean. You’re so damn brilliant but at the same time you’re just so fucking clueless.”

“Hey.” Debbie fights to keep an edge of hurt from her voice.

“Am I wrong?” Lou stops dead and turns to face Debbie head on, quiet but passionate. “Do you get off on charming people even if it fucks with their heads? Or are you just too caught up in your own clever bullshit to notice anyone around you?”

“You agreed to this, Lou. I didn’t con you.” Debbie is defensive, angry, confused.

“You expect me to go along with whatever you say and I’m not going to do that. We need to be equals in this partnership. We need better boundaries.”

“Okay, boundaries. Okay.” Debbie runs a nervous hand through her hair. “What kind of boundaries?”

“God, I don’t know, Debbie, I don’t have a list ready. I’ve been a little busy thinking about how we stole seventy million dollars last night. Off the top of my head, though, I think we need time, Debbie.” Lou kicks at the dirt beneath her feet. “We’ve rushed this partnership. I know we work well together--that much is obvious--for a job, but we don’t really _k_ _now_ each other as people. And we need to do that if we’re going to keep working together.”

“Lou, I never meant to rush this or push you into anything. I’m sorry. Really sorry. I’m just always focused on the job at hand and I was ready to move on and we should have waited longer.” She stops to breathe and says, “I'm sorry for all these excuses. I fucked up, and I am truly sorry.” Debbie’s brow is still knotted in worry as she says, half-joking, trying to ease her partner without ignoring her hurt, “I should at least introduce you to my family before you decide to follow me on any more heists. They can tell you many, many embarrassing stories about me rushing into things. It won’t make up for any of the shit I’ve done, but I honestly think it will explain some of what I do.”

Lou can’t help but smile a tiny bit at Debbie, but she is serious again when she tells Debbie, “I appreciate that, but this needs to be a two-way street. As long as we're working if we’re working together, I’m not following you. We are partners. Equals. Every damn step of the way. And honest partners, too.”

“Equals,” Debbie affirms. “I want to make this work, Lou.”

“I do too. But there can’t be any more bullshit between us. I mean it.”

“Sorry I'm so full of bullshit," Debbie says softly. “Thanks for telling when I’m being an idiot, though.”

She is surprised when Lou pulls Debbie close, hugging her hard, and whispers fiercely, “You’re welcome, princess.”

Debbie pulls away, narrows her eyes at Lou. “As long as we’re being honest, I hate that nickname.”

“As long as we’re being honest,” Lou mimics, “I think calling you a princess is better than flat-out calling you an idiot when you’re being one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a huge thanks to everyone who has been following this slow and windy story. things are going to pick up soon, i promise.
> 
> in the meantime, i’m interested in writing some quick one-shots, whether it's more lou and debbie or other ocean's eight stuff, so if anyone has any prompts or requests hmu! let me know in the comments or on tumblr @petitegaynerd


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